Traveling the World One Day at a Time

Tantrums

December 10, 2008

We arrived in Buenos Aires this morning, and I don't even know where I am.

A night of no sleep. We made our way to our new apartment (for the month). It's a small one bedroom in Recoleta, which is an incredible neighborhood. We're renting with some old friends from NYC. As our flight landed at 5am today, I made a point of looking out the window for a first glimpse of our new city. Usually, this moment excites me. This morning, my exact thought, "Oh shit! Now what?"

Lila has been a bit of a tragedy and a disaster all day. I have never seen her so obnoxious. And just recently, she learned to snap, so she punctuates all her rude little comments and evil looks with a little snap.

I know, I know, lots of moving around. We're all out of it and cranky. We're all completely off schedule. I'm trying to have patience now that it's after 11pm and she's popped out of bed complaining it's hot, or it's cold, or she's hungry, or not tired. We take her back to bed.

We went for a walk earlier and she literally fell asleep on Noah's shoulders. But now, she's not tired. "But Mommy, I'm not sleepy." Which I'd like to add is a direct quote from one of her books. Why do people write books that give kids tips on ways to procrastinate going to bed.

Then the corrollary question, why do we parents read these books to our kids?

For now, no answers. I'm just going to assume that a night of sleep will even things out for all of us. Then we begin the business of settling in, because I'll tell you, I am done with traveling. As far as I'm concerned, this morning, we arrived home.

November 10, 2008

Few know this about me, but when I drive, I change into another person. I have no patience for stupidity and seem to find endless stupidity on these roads. People who are slow to go when the light turns green make me crazy. If you honk at me without good reason -- and you'll be hard pressed to find a good reason -- you'll hear me spew words that would turn a construction worker's head.

Noah met me in NY and didn't see me drive until a good four months into our relationship. Imagine his surprise to see this soft-voiced woman suddenly turn into Linda Blair. Lila, for her part, routinely tells me "Mommy, it's not nice to call people an idiot" when she's in the back seat.

"You're right, honey. I shouldn't say that."

"You really shouldn't," adds Noah quiety with fear in his eyes.

I am more than lucky that she has chosen not to repeat many of the other choice morsels she's heard (at least not yet).

Atlanta drivers, in particular, make me crazy.

Most of the day -- while people are at work -- traffic moves clearly and quickly. But then, then, the work day releases and thousands upon thousands of people scurry out of their offices into their cars and start navigating their vehicles on the streets with wild abandon.

They horrify me.

"But aren't NYC drivers so much worse?" you're probably asking. No.

See, people in NY drive like lunatics, too. They think nothing of leaning out the window to scream obscenties at a neighboring car. Or swerving from lane to lane just to meet their destination a few moments earlier. But at least with all that, you have this underlying feeling that these drivers know what they're doing.

In Atlanta, and indeed the south in general, somehow i'm not instilled with the same confidence. Example. The next time you drive on the highways here, notice all the skid marks. Now notice the roads are straight, not a curve in sight. There are very few cars on the road as compared to a NYC street any time of day. And the weather is rarely bad enough to warrant the skids and broken tire shards littering the highway.

What are these people doing?

Sigh.

I guess you can take me out of NY, put me on the beach, show me the beauty of Buffalo or the tastes of the south of France and Italy. I may be happy to have left the disjointed, moves-too-fast-to see life in NY, but a part of me will always be a New Yorker. A Brooklyn girl.

October 22, 2008

I was just in NYC. I didn't like it much. Two days there, and I find myself slipping back into the same habits as before. I stop saying hello to people, never smile at anyone. I keep to myself.

How did I not notice this when we lived here?

We carried some of this New York as we drove south for what may well be the last time. It might not; it might. The first day was hellish. Imagine this. Noah and I in the front bickering for at least three of the seven hour drive our first day. Did I say bickering? No, fighting. Straight out, no purpose fighting. We brought back past grievances and hurled accusations. There was shouting, crying and long stretches of silence following statements like “Whatever.” Or “This conversation is over.” And begin again.

I considered jumping out of the car and just running. Where? To what? No idea. I just wanted to get away from just sitting there with all that negative energy (yes).

This, thankfully, was infinitely better than our first drive to Atlanta after the first time we left NY.

Amazing how things have changed and yet the same patterns are always there. Traveling is exciting at the beginning. Everything is always new. Now, after almost two years, constant change has become our norm.

I've learned a lot since we left NY. Learned how to adapt to whatever situation arises. Learned to let go of the things we can’t carry with us. And I feel like I’ve moved closer toward the type of person I’d ultimately like to be.

Clearly, we humans like our patterns. In NY, I took the same roads to the subway each day, most times forgetting myself and suddenly finding myself ast my destination. While the streets were the same, when pressed, I couldn’t have told you which actual route I took. Did I go up Henry? Or Clinton? I didn’t remember.

Now I can't remember which road we took each of the six times we've driven this route (3 times round trip).

They say children need boundaries, stability and routine in order to feel secure. When Lila tantrums because we want her to go to bed or buy her a new doll, and we refuse to budge because of the tantrum, she seems happier when we hold true to those edges. A new toy won’t make her happier, but knowing she is safe within defined borders does. The tantrums are horrible and often occur when stuck in traffic on a highway somewhere. I’m talking screaming unintelligibly at the top of her lungs, kicking the back of my seat, heartwrenching cries too. But after, after things all calm down, Lila will then repeat happily, “I was screaming so I couldn’t have chocolate.”

She understands.

I think we say that children need boundaries, though, because we so desperately need them ourselves. We just don’t have someone forming them, often arbitrarily, for us.

I suspect that once again it is all about finding balance. Routine is comfortable and necessary, but it can also become too binding. Complete freedom is wonderful too albeit extremely rare.

So back to the car driving down Interstate 81 -- or is it 81, 84, 85 or 95?. We're in one place but moving. We fought all day one, but day two the cloud lifted and we calmed down, figured things out.

Because when all is said and done, what else are we going to do but work it out?

September 28, 2008

Lila has been a bit of a terror lately. She can go from cute, cuddly and laughing screaming, spitting and kicking in the matter of moments. There are always reasons.

One: Lila licked an envelope closed, shut it and then when she opened it, "the sticky went away." I hate when that happens.

Two: "Mommy swiped her feet on the floor like a bull." I was just playing. I have no idea why that lead her to burst into hysterical tears.

Then once things calmed down a bit we went to Albright Knox for their free entry evening. We get there to find the front gate closed. Apparently, there's a B-52s show tomorrow, and no parking to be seen anywhere. Lila starts complaining again. Noah stopped at a liquor store for a bottle of wine (originally intended to grease us up a but before watching the debate). He went inside while I stayed in the car. Lila's began to lose control of her screams. She was hitting and kicking the back of my seat and as much of me as she can reach.

That about did me in. I almost lost it.Instead, I climbed into the back seat and pulled my red-faced tear laden child onto my lap. She cuddled with me and immediately calmed down. Amazing!

"What's going on?" I ask her. She shrugs.

"Are you sad about leaving Buffalo?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Are you excited about going to Atlanta?"

Silence. I keep talking. "You'll get to see Granny and Grandpa, Sabrina and Vivian, Aunt Jane, too. Does that sound good?"

"Yeees," she tells me in her sweet child whine. "We should find a home for us."

"Where was your favorite place to stay?"

She didn't even pause before saying. "Bocas del Toro," in her perfect accent, full rolled 'r's.

"We didn't stay there because Mommy and Daddy weren't happy." Sure, sunshine all the time is lovely, but there's always a rainy season.

"We should get a dog."

"After we find a home, we'll get a dog."

"And a cat."

"Yes, and I cat," I reassured here.

Later, when we got home, she fell asleep on my lap while we watched Obama and McCain debate.

Now of course, I only tell this story because I was able to keep my shit together and actually handle the tantrum. See, Lila never had the Terrible Twos. Her Threes were pretty bellow too. Four, however, has been a major challenge for all involved.

I think a lot of us blame ourselves for our children's behavior. Mainly, because we are blamed for our children's behavior. By family, friends -- usually those without children -- and even strangers criticize. If you're lucky, the parent you criticize won't hear you or will just stand there lockjawed, tight lipped and wondering what it would feel like to just quickly punch you in the head.

Sometimes, I think it would be funny to break out into full fledged tantrum too. At least give people something to talk about. Something real. Because these tantrums are absolutely normal, even when they most definitely don't feel that way.

July 30, 2007

There was everything from hats to cheese to strawberry tarts and chess sets. In the afternoon, we went pedal boating again. I swam in the water so Noah and Lila could "catch Mommy." In between chases, we relaxed in the sun, eating pistachios.

Then there was today.

A fine, strong day with plenty of sun. The sort that is just perfect for visiting the small villages around, sitting in the shade and drinking wine.

Only Lila didn't want to leave the house. Don't ask me why. She just didn't.

See, when we decided to take this trip people said and we agreed that three is a perfect age for this sort of thing. She's not yet in school. She doesn't need a solid group of peers in the same way she would when older. It's a great education for her. And all that is true, but then again, she is also three and with three comes tantrums.

We managed to wrangle her out of the house anyway. Then during lunch, the unspeakable happened. A bit of Orangina - which Lila and now we pronounce to rhyme with vagina - spilled on her dress. Before you could say Charming French Village, she was flinging her shoes in one direction then ripped off her dress and insisted on hanging it to dry on the ledge of the balcony of the restaurant where we were eating lunch. A balcony with a gorgeous panoramic view and a sheer 100 foot drop below.

Is it wrong that it was not my child's safety that was of paramount importance? I was more concerned with losing the dress, her current favorite dress, the pink one with cherries, the one that she's happy to wear and that allows us to leave the house quickly every day.

Without the pink cherry dress, we were screwed. She would be distraught, and we would never leave the house again. We would never make it to the candy factory in Nice or the Gorge of Verdun. We would be stuck in this little apartment in Provence. Which I suppose wouldn't be so bad as long as we had enough wine.

Yes, these are the thoughts that went through my head as my sweet little daughter stood there shoeless in her underwear screaming.
So I did what anyone would have done. I finished my glass of rose then took Lila down the street for a chat.

Turns out, she wanted to wear a long dress and go to Rachel's wedding.
What?
Noah's sister just got engaged.

Yes, mazel tov, mazel tov. The wedding, though, is not until November. Rachel sent us a picture of the flower girl dress she wants Lila to wear.